


i saw you in a dream / then it came to an end / i wonder if you'll come and visit me again

by firelordazulas



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, and some other things happen that arent as importanat idk, based after the witcher 3, i vaguely explain things that happen in the game, they share a bed, tw suicide ment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelordazulas/pseuds/firelordazulas
Summary: The wards are somehow still up. They feel like Tissaia’s magic, as if they’re the same wards as the ones that existed before all this, when Tissaia was still Rectoress. Before the events of the Thanedd coup, before Tissaia had blamed herself for the Brotherhood splintering in half and killing each other; before she had died (killed herself. Yennefer can’t bring herself to even think it.)based after the witcher 3: wild hunt, an au where Tissaia never killed herself after the Thanedd Coup.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 10
Kudos: 114





	i saw you in a dream / then it came to an end / i wonder if you'll come and visit me again

Yennefer allows herself to hope again. As the three of them stand together, relieved, holding hands, her and Geralt on either side of Cirilla, the white frost defeated, Yennefer allows herself to feel that hope, to let happiness fill her in a way the stories say a sorceress cannot feel. They have defeated the Wild Hunt. Ciri is safe again, the three of them reunited in a way she had not thought possible. And then Geralt looks her in the eyes, and she remembers his betrayal; she remembers how he strung both her and Triss along, and how she has enough self-respect to ignore the pain in his eyes; to ignore how he still longs for the closeness that she would never allow him to have again. Yen’s been played many times in her life, by way too many men. Geralt may be more than average, but no man is exceptional enough. 

In the end, Ciri is Geralt’s before she is Yennefer’s. She will never have children, and she thinks she’s on the way to being truly fine with that. The small glimpse of motherhood with Ciri has shown her that she can choose her children, and Ciri will always be hers, in a lot of ways. She still loves her, of course; she just can’t stay with her anymore. She hugs Ciri one last time, close to her chest. She knows she could follow her to Emhyr, could watch over her as she takes the throne, retake her place as advisor, but it isn’t what she wants. She wants a peaceful life, now; she wants a sense of belonging, of staying in one place, with hopefully minimal responsibilities. And, of course, the cold remains of their almost family would be too hard to bear. 

Yennefer, Ciri, and Geralt spend a last, strained two weeks in White Orchard after the end of it all. It’s quiet. Ciri and Geralt hunt, they fish, they spar. Yennefer mostly encourages them from afar. She has given herself this time to figure out what to do now; she helped stop the end of the world, but in her 98th year alive she has suddenly found herself hopelessly without a purpose. Eventually, she becomes resigned to seeking out whatever’s left of the Lodge. There is a way of life that must be rebuilt, after all; if the remaining sorceresses want their legacy to continue, they must all take on the mantle of teacher. Yennefer has never previously imagined herself wanting to teach. Somehow, after Ciri, after the Wild Hunt, after the end of the world was so close to them all, Yennefer is now able to see that maybe this is the legacy that she was after all along. She helped save the world; now it’s time to rebuild it. 

Geralt catches Yen in the corridor, two weeks into their stay. “Triss left a message for you, through the megascope.”

“Hmm, that’s odd. What did she say?”

“Just, ‘come to Aretuza, as soon as you can’.”

“Aretuza? Well, duty calls. I suppose I will leave on the morrow.”

Privately, Yen is glad for a reason to leave. She’s been putting it off, existing in this awkward between state just so she doesn't have to think about what she’s going to do with the long years left of her life. Going back to Aretuza… Yennefer decides not to overthink it. What will come will come, and she’ll be ready for it. 

Yennefer hugs Cirilla goodbye, a hug that is long and tight. “I love you. I’ll miss you. I’ll write as soon as I get to Aretuza. Do you two know where you’re going yet?”

Ciri pushes her shoulders back and raises her chin. “I’m going to Emhyr. I can’t run away forever.”

Geralt’s eyes widen. He steps forward and looks to Yen for support. “Ciri… Are you sure that’s a good idea? What he’s done… What he’s tried to do...”

“The only way I will make a difference is if I take a stand. If I work to change the world from the inside. I need to do this. Are you going to try to stop me?”

Geralt huffs a laugh, without any kind of actual humour. “As if I could.”

Yennefer lets them have their moment. She doesn’t expect Ciri to turn those too mature, too old eyes onto her so soon.

“Yen… You could come with me. You could help me; be my advisor.”

“Oh, Ciri… You know I can’t. I have other responsibilities, other things I need to do. I won’t be away forever, but I can’t stay with you right now.”

Ciri and Yen both blink away tears, just some of many, before hugging again, for much longer this time. Finally, Yennefer steps back, and with a quick, wet smile to the both of them, steps through the portal.

The wards are somehow still up. They feel like Tissaia’s magic, as if they’re the same wards as the ones that existed before all this, when Tissaia was still Rectoress. Before the events of the Thanedd coup, before Tissaia had blamed herself for the Brotherhood splintering in half and killing each other; before she had died (killed herself. Yennefer can’t bring herself to even think it.) 

There’s an illusion in place on top of the wards, Yennefer can tell, but she doesn’t know what part it’s meant to be hiding; the place is a ruin already, grass and weeds growing through cracks in the cement, the greenery completely out of control. It looks completely ransacked. Triss had told her what happened, after the fact; that the Redanians had invaded, destroying everything and killing every sorcerer they got their hands on, including the students; that Margarita Laux-Antille had tried to save as many as possible, but that the whole thing had been a horrific massacre. 

Yennefer reaches out towards the wards. They recognise with the same warm feeling they always had, past her very first visit to this place, when Tissaia had brought her here after buying her from her father. Tissaia… She was why Yen had always refused to come back to Aretuza. Yen has had her heart broken twice in her life; once, most recently, when Geralt proved he couldn’t prioritise her, didn’t deserve her, and second, when Tissaia had chosen to save Geralt and Triss, but not herself. 

Yennefer walks through the illusion, and on the other side, sees an Aretuza that she thought only existed in memory now; a version completely intact, with not a thing having changed since her days as a student there. The holes are fixed, the singe marks gone; even the grass under her feet thrives. The front doors lie open, and the inside, while empty, is also whole and ready for human habitation. 

It’s eerie. Yennefer’s footsteps echo in the mostly empty hallway. The tapestries that used to cover the walls have been gathered in corners, their ruins rolled up and away. The debris has been brushed aside, organised in a strange way, as if pushed there by a sweeping force. It’s clean in a way Yennefer hadn’t expected, but at the same time, haphazard. People have been here, since the world almost ended. In a way, that makes sense; Triss had called her here for a reason, after all. But it still seems strange, wrong, somehow, that anyone would have cleaned up the entrance hall in this way. Who could there possibly be left for them to impress? They hand no students, and more importantly, no sorceresses left to teach them in the first place. At Yennefer’s last count, there were only five or so of them left, and all of them had been involved in bringing the end of the world to a halt; which they had all only finished up with a scant two weeks ago. So how had Aretuza gotten so organised already?

Yennefer mindlessly wandered the halls, running her hands over the places where familiar paintings and the like had used to sit. Strangely, she found herself almost choking up at the sight of the things she had grown to resent lying ripped and torn on the floor. Aretuza in tatters… In the midst of it all, she hadn’t had time to think about how it would actually feel, to know that the place she had spent her reluctant adolescence trapped within had been ravaged. In her usual penchant for melodrama, she had to admit it felt a little like a part of herself had been taken along with the sacking of Aretuza; like her history, the very beginning of her story, was an additional part of the wreckage. Maybe like how the bare and barren walls, their decorations laying in tatters, matched the state of her own womb. 

At a meandering pace, Yennefer slowly allowed her feet to lead her to Tissaia’s office. There were signs of habitation everywhere, and she could hear voices coming from where the meetings of the Brotherhood had used to be held, but she chose to ignore them for now in favour of some pointless sentimentality. Usually, Yennefer would scoff at this one great show of emotion, but Tissaia was her first love; she figured she was allowed some kind of nostalgia; some kind of remembrance for the woman she had loved in secret. 

Tissaia’s office is miraculously in one piece. It looks different but the same. The piles of papers are different, the bottles from her research long gone. The surfaces are strangely empty; Tissaia, for all her love of order, had always had piles on piles of books and sheaf’s of parchment scattered all around her office, the whole thing covered in a veneer of calm as she analysed poisons for her latest book. The thought that someone might have come into Tissaia’s office, might have cleaned it up for her, after her -. As she walks closer to the desk, she notices something that makes her cock her head in thought - there’s a fresh plate, the remains of a recently eaten meal, with fresh apple juice beside it, as if someone has been using Tissaia’s office… 

She hears footsteps behind her, the clicking of small heels against the stone. “Yen, you’re here!” 

“Good afternoon, Triss.”

“We weren’t expecting you for another couple of weeks, I only spoke to Geralt yesterday...” Triss moves further into the room as she speaks. There’s someone standing in the doorway behind her. The light shines in the room behind them, blinding Yennefer to their identity for a few precious moments. 

“Hello, Yennefer. How was saving the world?”

“Tissaia?!” Yennefer closes her eyes, presses both hands to her forehead. It’s both a dream and a nightmare. She suffered, for years, after the coup - after Tissaia… After she… And she was alive all along? 

First things first, get rid of any witnesses, in case she decides to end Tissaia’s life herself. “Triss. Lovely to see you. You need to go. Now.”

“Yen -”

“No. Tissaia and I need a chat, don’t we, Rectoress?” Yen rolled her eyes as Triss searched out Tissaia’s eyes before saying anything. “Go on, ask her for permission. We all know you need three types of validation before you do anything.”

“Yennefer.” Tissaia attempts to use her stern voice, as if she has any authority in this situation. “If you’ll let me explain -”

“Explain?! You committed suicide! I MOURNED for you! You were here the whole damn time?!” 

“Come now, piglet; does it really seem like I would ever commit suicide? Was that not a little suspicious to you?”

“It was unbelievable! I was heartbroken! You _left_ me!”

“Oh, my dear -” Tissaia took a step forward - Yen matched her with a step back.

“You watched the Lodge of Sorceresses form and then die from afar and did absolutely nothing about it!”

“Philippa knew I was alive. I helped her, her and Triss -”

“Triss. Triss knew too, and never told me. Who else knew? Go on, tell me! Did Sabrina? Did you even tell Sabrina and not me? I thought I meant something to you, I thought I was important -”

“Yes, of course you’re important to me, you’re the best student I’ve ever had and the closest thing to a friend I’m probably ever going to get-”

“A friend. Right, of course.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’d long rejected any kind of mentorship from me -”

“Gods, this isn’t about that, it’s about the fact that you BETRAYED me!”

“I had to leave! I caused literally all the mages to die! It was a massacre! How was I supposed to be able to stay?!”

“You know that wasn’t your fault -”

Tissaia shook her head, turned her back. “Of course it was my fault. I made that choice.”

“Every mage in that room who chose to take another mage’s life made that choice. You didn’t. You were trying to right a wrong.” Yennefer took a step closer, trying to figure out how to comfort Tissaia, but still warring with her own anger.

“I failed. But none of that matters now.” Tissaia turns back to Yennefer, and now the two of them stand only a couple small steps from each other. “I want to reopen Aretuza. You want a legacy, you want to be remembered - help us. Help us rebuild the Lodge. Help us train the mages.”

Yennefer laughs, but it’s cold and disbelieving. “Oh, the irony of it all. God, and now you get to take the credit. ‘Oh, look, I tamed Yennefer de Vengerberg, 80 years later and she still does exactly what I say’ - what do you think I came here for? Why do you think I answered Triss’s call? I came here to rebuild the mages. I made this decision, not you - I made it entirely without your knowledge, or input, or anything. You don’t get to claim ownership of this.”

“So… You’re here to help?”

“Yes, God damn it!”

The two of them stand opposite each other, chests heaving, magic swirling. Yennefer’s angry bluster has been mostly blown away by Tissaia’s guilt, by her vulnerability. It’s surprisingly hard for Yennefer to be angry at someone who is full of their own heartbreak, even when her own heart aches; has been aching for the last three years. For a few moments, Yen just stares at Tissaia, at the familiar shape of her face, her eyes, her chin. Gods, but does she still love her. Her chest aches, a sharp burst of love, or recognition, and she feels tears welling. Yen turns her back so that Tissaia doesn’t see her cry.

“I can’t do this.” Yen scrubs both hands over her face, forcing her tears back. 

“Look, I’m sorry. Triss saved me but I couldn’t come back here - I couldn’t go on teaching like everything was fine and we only had a few minutes to decide what to do, so Geralt and Triss agreed they would tell everyone I’d - well, that I’d killed myself after teleporting the three of us away because the truth’s always the best lie to tell.”

“Why… Does it always come back to him. Back to him and his sorceresses, who just follow him around and help him save the world.” Yennefer tipped her head back and glared at the ceiling. “Maybe the two of you should try dating. You could compare notes on how best to ruin my life.”

“Ah, I don’t think Geralt’s exactly my type.”

“Not keen on the whole yellow eyes, doesn’t speak, has no emotions thing huh?”

“I prefer people who can hold a conversation without grunting or just responding ‘hmmm’.”

There’s a small silence, until Tissaia can’t help but break it. “We don’t have any rooms prepared for you - honestly we don’t have any rooms prepared for anyone, we’re all staying a bit on top of each other right now, but I can offer you my room while we get something sorted. It’s the same room from before, if you remember -” 

“I know where that is. Don’t follow me.” Yennefer turned for the door, but just passed the doorway, she came to a stop. “I’ll come find you later today. I…” She shook her head. “Tell Triss I’m sorry for me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you.” Their gazes met one last time, an intense look of guarded trust, an almost openness and honesty hanging between them, until Yennefer turned her back. 

  
  


The walk to Tissaia’s room feels impossibly long. She finds herself trying to force herself back into feeling angry, instead of this powerless sadness that is trying to settle into her bones. Yennefer shakes her head, just the once; a final decision to stop feeling like this, at least for now. There’s no point in ruminating. There are things she needs to do, now, to rebuild their small part of the world. Like figure out what Aretuza needs, right now, and how to acquire those things. But, first, Yennefer needs a nap, if she’s honest. And maybe a cry. 

Tissaia’s rooms are the only things left exactly how they were before the Redanians. Yennefer immediately crashes out on the bed, surprised by how clean and perfect the sheets are. The whole room is like that, inexplicably perfect and totally not dusty somehow. Does Tissaia just have household magic on lock or what? 

Yennefer speaks to Triss about the state of the place. The rest of the sorceresses are sharing a couple of rooms, mostly sleeping on the floor. They haven’t managed to contact anyone of import yet, and are primarily focusing on laying lay. Triss offers to set up a bed/blanket/floor situation for her, but Yen declines, figuring Tissaia owes her - if she shows up in Tissaia’s rooms like she’s absolutely meant to be there, Tissaia has to let her have the bed, right? After all, Tissaia did pretend to be dead and absolutely break her heart so really letting her sleep in one of the few proper beds left in the whole place seems like a small mercy. 

There’s only a few sorceresses left. It seems like all of them have congregated here; or at least all the ones who helped save the world, anyway. Apart from Fringilla, of course; who knew what hole she had climbed into. Rita and Philippa were obvious choices for assisting the rebuilding of Aretuza, and Triss’s bleeding heart had led her here, but it was strange to see Keira Metz wandering the halls. Yennefer soon learnt that Keira had assisted Tissaia with building her illusion, the one that had kept her and some of the younger magicians safe when the Redanians attacked. It turned out the mages that had managed to escape with Rita, the ones that had then been passed onto Triss and ultimately died in Novigrad, had been hidden in Tissaia’s rooms, which had been protected with a powerful illusion. That was where she had been hidden all that time, those long three years during which Yennefer had mourned her - she had been right under all of their noses, staying in the crux of her power. 

Triss had explained the whole story when Yennefer had gone looking for her. Yen hadn’t wanted to hear it from Tissaia herself. She was too raw, too hurt by all the people that had gotten to know while she was out there, alone, feeling broken open by Tissaia’s death. Yennefer also found out that the living situation was pretty rough - they were all taking turns portaling in and out for food and other necessities, as the hum of the servants who had previously kept Aretuza running were long gone. 

In response to this, Yennefer portaled immediately to Emhyr. Time to see if he would make good on his promise of full support for the Lodge if Ciri was returned to him. 

Yennefer returns with a cart full of food and a promise of both girls to train and a full retinue of servants. Having Ciri on the throne and Emhyr in her pocket was turning out to be useful after all. 

Tissaia is waiting for her. She doesn’t look nervous, but she is less demanding than usual; she waits for Yen to approach her, instead of forcing the conversation entirely on her terms. 

“Hello, Tissaia. I’ve secured food for a week and servants and sources are to be sent forthwith. Emhyr will keep us updated.”

Tissaia raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had Emhyr in your pocket.”

“It’s a recent development. A side effect of saving our known universe.”

“Ah, yes. I feel rather out the loop; you’ll have to fill me in.”

“I’m sure I can tell you all about it tonight. I am to be staying in your quarters, after all.”

Tissaia’s eyes widened very slightly in shock, before her face smoothed into a blank smile. “I’m sure there’ll be room in my bed for the both of us.” She turned and began organising the girls in helping with the food, leaving that as her parting shot. 

Yennefer smirks to herself. If Tissaia wanted to play that game, Yen would be very, extremely game. 

That night, Yennefer and Tissaia walk to Tissaia’s quarters together. They are not really talking, the silence pressing in on them as they slowly make their way to bed after dinner. Yennefer refuses to break the silence, determined to act as if they are just having a pleasant walk through Aretuza. Tissaia is as immovable as ever, walking sedately and looking firmly ahead. Yennefer decides to wait Tissaia out and peacefully saunters down the hallway, matching Tissaia’s leisurely pace. 

They reach Tissaia’s room, still in that tense silence that Yennefer is pretending is fine. She breezes into the room ahead of Tissaia. Yen goes straight to the bed. She flops down dramatically, laying back on her elbows, one leg crossed over the after. “So. Which side do you prefer?”

Tissaia ignores her. She crosses the room to the wardrobe, pulling out two white nightdresses for them both. “Here.”

Yennefer catches the fabric bundle that Tissaia throws her way, just before it collides with her face. “Predictably boring nightwear taste.” Standing, Yennefer immediately starts to undo the overly convoluted ties on the collar of her dress. She turns her back to Tissaia, gesturing to the corset-like ties that lace up the back of the dress. “Undo me, would you?”

“Yennefer. We all know you usually use magic for that.”

Yennefer looks over her shoulder, big eyes wide open in a play at innocence, pouting slightly. “Indulge me, would you? Doing it with magic just isn’t the same.”

“I’m not your maid servant.” But still, Tissaia steps up to Yennefer, hands set to unlacing. She’s not slow or particularly gentle, but still there’s a charge in the air as Yennefer’s dress gradually parts, revealing bare skin underneath.

Finally, Tissaia steps back. Yennefer casually pushes the dress the rest of the way down, revealing that she’s wearing nothing underneath. Tissaia watches her step forward to the bed, small, graceful steps, and sedately pull on the waiting chemise. “Do you need help with your dress too?” she asks, coyly looking at Tissaia over her shoulder.

“No, thank you.” Tissaia snapped her fingers, immediately swapping her dress for a nightgown. “I prefer sleeping on the outside. You can sleep against the wall.”

“Do your old lady bones not like the difficult journey to get out of bed?”

“It’s more that I don’t trust you to arise at a decent hour.” Tissaia gestured at the bed. “Go on; get in.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Yennefer did as she was told, laying against the wall on her side, head propped up. “We should tell each other spooky stories, like a real sleepover. I’ll go first: once there was a scary witch who stole children from their homes -”

“That’s enough, Yennefer.” Tissaia laid down on her side, her back to Yennefer. “Go to sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Good. Shut up.”

They went to sleep like that, both facing the same way, as big a distance as possible between them. Yennefer kept her back to the wall and just looked at the curve of Tissaia’s neck. She was planning to stay up, to try and stay awake as long as possible, but found herself lulled to sleep by the quiet sound of Tissaia’s steady breathing.

Yennefer woke up to dawn streaming in through the open curtains. The light hit her face perfectly, slanting directly over her eyes. Sleepily, she rolled over, curling in towards Tissaia, forehead resting against the back of her shoulders to get out of the sun. She fell back to sleep like that.

When Yennefer next woke up, it was to Tissaia rolling over and muttering about her taking over all the bed. Tissaia physically pushed Yennefer’s shoulder, trying to get her to move over. “Yennefer, move.”

“No. Comfortable. Stop moving.” Yennefer grasped Tissaia’s hands and held them to her chest.

Tissaia kneed Yennefer in the gut to get her to move her legs instead. They went back to sleep with Tissaia’s hands still in Yennefer’s, their heads bowed together, Yen’s legs a comma to Tissaia’s.

Later, Yennefer woke to an empty bed and only the vague memories of having slept close to Tissaia. She still felt raw, emotionally, from the discovery that Tissaia had been alive all along, but it was strangely easy to adjust back into their old dynamic. The last three years felt like a strange nightmare. The rising chaos from their close brush with the end of the world had started with the Thanedd Coup, had started with Tissaia’s apparent suicide, and the whole thing seemed like a surreal dream now they were on the other side of it. Yennefer felt comfortable again. This dance with Tissaia was achingly familiar; the push and pull of wanting Tissaia’s approval, while not wanting to admit that she wanted it. It didn’t help that Yennefer was more aware than ever of her burning attraction for Tissaia. Was she just riling Tissaia up out of her need for attention? Probably, but she couldn’t stop, had never been able to make herself stop.

Their second night in bed together, Tissaia magics both their clothes into chemises without a

word, not allowing Yennefer to bait her into helping with her dress again. They talk as they

fall into bed, about plans for the future, speaking as equals with a common goal. It’s easy for

Yennefer, like this: easy to imagine a future for herself, a future that features Tissaia much

more that she’d like to admit. They go to sleep the way as the night before, with Yennefer

watching the curve of Tissaia’s neck.

Yennefer is woken by Tissaia, much too early for her tastes.

“Come on, piglet. It’s up time.”

“No. Go away.”

“You have meetings. I should know; I have to go with you to half of them.”

“First meeting isn’t until 10. Not getting up until half nine. Either come cuddle or go away.”

“Fine. But don’t get grouchy with me when you don’t have time to have breakfast.”

Yennefer is, in fact, grouchy with Tissaia when she has sit through Emhyr’s attitude without

any food.

The next two weeks are full of planning. Yennefer and Tissaia work together to get Aretuza set up as a functioning academy again, meeting with dignitaries and royalty together, plying rulers with a two-pronged strategic charm offensive that works on almost everyone. With Radovid gone, Emhyr serves up what was Redania on a silver platter, handing them Temeria’s unwavering support at the same time. This comes with a cost, of course; it is agreed that Nilfgaard will be the first to have a mage counsel, Fringilla moving back into her old post.

Eventually, Emhyr delivers on his promise of more staff, along with some necessities. This includes beds for everyone, but for some reason Yennefer never actually moves out of Tissaia’s rooms. They don’t discuss it.

The first lot of new blood arrives, and suddenly Tissaia and Yennefer are seeing much less of each other. Before, they had been in each other’s space constantly, planning and arguing and flirting (only in Yennefer’s case), and now they only see each other at meals and when they fall into bed at night. To make matters worse, Yennefer finds herself with much less to do. Her and Tissaia have already seduced all of the support they needed. She does not want to leave Aretuza – she still wants to help shape the minds of the younger generation, but she can’t imagine teaching. Anything she would want to teach is much too complicated for their current apprentices; there’s no point teaching them how to wield fire or shapeshift before they know if they’re merely to be mill fodder.

Instead, she spends her time drifting through the corridors of Aretuza. Mostly, Yennefer annoys whoever she happens to stumble on. Usually it’s Triss, who is perhaps the most receptive to her charms – Keira and Philippa usually just look like they wish she had never been born. Gradually, she ends up focusing most of her attention on Tissaia. When they’re not together, Yen finds herself missing her. She misses them plotting together, their heads close in companionship, always prioritising each other over others. They still have the end of their days together, of course; the two of them can regularly be seen slowly meandering back to their room after dinner, confiding in each other about their day as they get into bed, but it just isn’t the same for Yennefer. It’s this new distance that causes Yennefer to start acting out.

Yennefer can feel herself regressing back to how she was 50 years ago, when she would purposefully bait Tissaia into paying attention to her by behaving badly at balls and masquerades. Every chance she got, Yennefer would do something, anything, to get Tissaia’s attention, impulsively throwing drinks on other guests just to get Tissaia’s knowing eyes on her. After Sodden Hill, Yennefer had done her best to put all that behind her; being blind had changed her, made her slower to act, and even more wary of relying on people than she already had been. Being around Tissaia again was making her the impulsive, emotionally led Yennefer of yore.

It was this Yennefer that found herself going to see Tissaia at all times of day. She started to find excuses to go visit Tissaia while she was teaching, when she was meant to be concentrating. One of her common tricks was bringing Tissaia lunch, but she often just swaggered in with the flimsiest of excuses. She was trying to start a rumour that her and Tissaia were dating, just to add a scandalous edge to her days.

“Hey babe, I brought you lunch.” Yennefer swanned into Tissaia’s classroom, ignoring the fact that her students were literally halfway through struggling to identify some plants with Tissaia’s help.

“Good afternoon, Yennefer. Does it count as lunch when it’s already 3pm?”

“Well, did you already eat?”

“… No.”

“Then it’s lunch.” Yennefer placed the tray onto the teacher’s podium, ignoring the fact that Tissaia was stood on the other side of the room. She stole a grape, taking a juicy bite right down the middle.

“Okay, girls, class dismissed. Make sure to continue to study these herbs; telling the difference between one bloom to another can mean life or death.”

The girls all rushed to leave, collecting their notebooks but leaving the plants out on the side for Tissaia to clear up.

Yen shook her head. “What _are_ you teaching them, letting them leave the classroom like this. You’re losing your touch.”

“Seeing as you interrupted the lesson, you can tidy everything away instead; you remember where everything goes, right?”

“Oh, sure - it’s only been 80 years, give or take.”

“Go on, piglet. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the nostalgia.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes but did as she was told, collecting the plants into piles and transferring them back into their cupboards. “The servants can sweep the desks; I’m not getting paid for this, after all.”

“What a noble sacrifice you’re making for the good of the Continent. I’m sure you have no ulterior motives for being here.”

“You’re right; my main motive is obviously trying to get into a certain Rectoress’s bed. Oh wait!”

“What small dreams you have.” Tissaia walked over to the tray of food, copying Yennefer in taking a grape.

“You are pretty small, that’s true.”

“Lanky is much less of a favourable personality trait than you think.”

Yennefer mock gasped. “But what do I have without my endless amounts of leg?”

“A brain, hopefully.” Tissaia rolled her eyes. “Bring the tray.” She set off towards her office, expecting Yennefer to follow.

Yennefer, like the puppy in love that she is, picks up the food tray and follows without argument.

When they get to the office, Tissaia automatically settles behind the desk. Yennefer places the tray in front of her, and then pushes a stack of paper back so she can sit on the edge, legs swinging. Her thigh is almost touching the side of Tissaia’s arm.

“I see you brought enough for two.” Tissaia comments, raising an eyebrow at Yennefer.

“I haven’t eaten yet.” Yen takes yet another grape. “You wouldn’t turn away a poor, hungry, unfortunate soul, would you?”

“Oh, my dear, you know I would.”

“Mmm, unlikely. You’re much too attached to me now.”

“You didn’t specify that it had to be you.”

Yennefer snickered. “Resorting to technicalities to make a point. I am rubbing off on you.”

“Perhaps.” Tissaia cocked her head to the side. “Did you have another reason for coming to see me?”

“Can’t a girl bring her roommate lunch without there being an ulterior motive?”

“Yennefer. You’re a whole century old. I don’t think you can describe yourself as a ‘girl’ anymore.”

“But you can still call me piglet?”

“You love it when I call you that.”

“Yeah, I really think we’re interpreting those situations very differently.”

“So. Why are you here?”

“I’m bored. Everyone in this damn place is so boring.

“You say everyone is boring and yet, here you are, coming to me once again for entertainment. Am I your babysitter?”

“You’re the only interesting person here. The rest of them are just bickering about who drank all the wine or whatever it is that they fill the air with.”

“Yennefer. Sit down, properly. Read a book or something. Find a hobby.”

“Hobbies are for boring people who have nothing better to do with their lives.”

“Well, I didn’t want to just outright say that to you, but… Do you have anything better to do with your life?”

Yennefer groaned, head dropping back as she leant back on her hands, still leaning against Tissaia’s side of the desk. “Did saving the world make me… Boring?”

“Yes, dear. That’s generally what saving the world does. It’s changed your priorities. Suddenly you’ve realised there’s nothing wrong with taking a long bath and reading a good book.”

“Am I a… Homebody?” Yennefer said the word with disgust, as if was the worst thing in the world.

“I doubt if anyone could ever truly call you that, but you do want to settle down now. Keep all your dresses in one wardrobe, maybe wear less lipstick.”

Yennefer gasped in mock outrage. “Don’t you ever say that to me!”

“I was thinking you might start wearing less ridiculous clothes, but then I realised that was definitely a step too far.”

“You love my ridiculous clothes.”

“Sure. Apart from the rope dress. I was hoping you had incinerated it along with everything else on Sodden Hill, but I can see it’s made a miraculous recovery.” Tissaia tugged on one of the cords on Yennefer’s arm, just to make a point.

“This is one of my favourites!”

“That’s a shame. Do I have to add ‘bad taste’ to your already long list of undesirable traits?”

“I have _incredible_ taste. It was the only thing the Aedirn court was good for – teaching me to appreciate all the finer things in life. And I suppose you taught me a thing or two.”

“Not enough things, apparently.”

“Fine! Go on then, why don’t you show me how _you_ would like this dress to look.” Yennefer stood up fully, spreading her arms out from her sides. “Come on. Put that big brain to good use.”

Tissaia pushed her chair out so she was facing Yennefer, crossing one leg over the other. She waved a hand, and without a word the ropes burnt themselves out, fizzling into nothing and leaving only the plain grey shift that was the base of the outfit. “You can keep the breast window; I’m not sure anyone would recognise you without cleavage.”

“I look like a sack of potatoes with breasts.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about yourself.”

“Well, I think your dress could use a few alterations too -”

“Yennefer -” Tissaia warned in a dangerous tone.

Yen waved a hand. Tissaia’s dress shrank, becoming much, much tighter fitting, the collar of the dress disappearing entirely until she was left with a squared off, very low neckline.

Tissaia looked down at herself and rolled her eyes. “Would you please stop pulling on my pigtails, it’s getting a little old. Now go away. I have work to do.”

“You look hot.” Yennefer spun away with a grin. “You should wear low cut dresses much, much more often.” With a last smouldering look over her shoulder, Yennefer did as she was told.

That night, Yennefer and Tissaia stood from their dinners together. They walked back to their room. There was a tangible tension. It was like things were finally coming to some kind of a resolution, like their long nights spent wrapped around each other had meant something all along. Like maybe the fact they had spent all those days and nights being the most important person in each other’s life was training wheels for some other kind of other journey. As they walked, Yennefer thought over all the time they had spent together, how they had effortlessly become each other’s priority over the last month. Tissaia was her first thought on waking, her first sight, her first sound, and she had been Tissaia’s for all that time too. They had shared most breakfasts, most lunches, and every single dinner together since she had come to Aretuza. They had held hands in the night, when they didn’t even know what their searching hands had been looking for. It was a slow dawning realisation as she walked. Like the sun coming out, Yennefer realised that she had been _with_ Tissaia this whole time, without even realising it; and Tissaia had been with her, too, in that unspeakable Tissaia way. That the quiet they had shared was enough for them both, but that Tissaia had loved the loud things too, that she had… Loved. Just loved Yennefer, in a way that Yen had long since thought she could never find or deserve from another person.

“You love me.” Yennefer hadn’t meant to speak, but especially not in that slow and wonderous way, like she couldn’t believe that she got to be alive with this person in this place.

“Yes.” Tissaia continued to walk, unbothered by the conversation. 

“No, but you _love_ me.” Yennefer took Tissaia’s hands, pulling her to a stop, spinning her to so she could see her face. “I thought maybe you were just lonely and that’s why you were letting me share your bed, but _no._ it’s because you LOVE me.” Yennefer was grinning smugly, swinging their joined hands lightly.

“Yes, Yennefer. And you love me, too. I’ve just been waiting for you to figure it out. You’re very dense – I think your skull must just be unprecedented amounts of thick.”

“You kept ignoring my flirting! If it was up to me, we would have fucked weeks ago.”

“We live together. I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

Yennefer stepped right up to Tissaia, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at Yen. “Can I kiss you now?”

“You may.”

“Oh, it is so tempting to leave you without, just like you have for this last month, but fine. I guess I’ll be benevolent this one time.” Yennefer leant down and slowly, so slowly, pressed a kiss to Tissaia’s lips. “Race to our room; whoever gets there first gets to be on top.”

Tissaia is already gone through a portal before Yen can blink.

“Fucking cheating!” Yennefer yells at the empty corridor, before finally following.

**Author's Note:**

> title from i saw you in a dream - the japanese house bc the album this song is from finally forced me into finishing this goddamn fic.
> 
> also sorry if you havent played the wticher 3, i think i explain things at least a bit but i did spend like 10 yrs on the witcher wiki bc the fucking show doesnt explain LIETRALLY ANYTHING so hopefully it makes as much as the show at least as in none at all.


End file.
